I Want To Live Not Just Survive
by thisisyourcaptainwriting
Summary: Clint knows her better than anyone, and he knows somethings up. A 'how Natasha got the necklace' fic mixed with a little something extra too to celebrate the set pictures of Age of Ultron. Fairly fluffy, but in character. Includes a teeny bit of canon Black Widow back story.


"Nat!" Clint called, searching her apartment at SHIELD for any sign that she was here. Poking his head through the door of every room in turn, giving them a swift glance over with his keen eyes. He checked her bedroom last. If it hadn't been for his fervent gaze he would have missed her, sat on the floor in the star-lit room with her back to him against her bed post, a photograph in her hand, peering out the floor-to-ceiling window as though searching for something. "Tasha?" Clint asked again, more softly this time.

When she was like this Clint would use little signs in her body language to determine whether she wanted to be left alone or not. There'd been a couple of occasions where another avenger had discovered her like this and sought him out because of this. He could tell she needed him right now.

He sat down beside Natasha, their sides pressed together, following her line of sight to watch the stars across the city skyline. The air was clear tonight, the stars crisp and clearly shining. They sat in peaceful silence for a while. Clint knew he had to wait for Natasha to make the first move.

"I always assumed I'd die young." Natasha said, her face apathetic but thoughtful. She said it with no anguish or distress. It was a possibility you came to accept in their line of work, especially with her rotten roots buried deep in the twisted ideals of Red Room.

Clint examined her bittersweet features. Her beauty marred by the pain rising in her eyes. He nodded carefully, empathetically. It was something he had once assumed too.

"But here I am." She stated.

"And we're all better off for it." Clint acknowledged truthfully.

"So many others didn't make it." She gripped the photo in her hand more firmly.

Clint looked down to see a young Natasha in the photograph, she was stood dutifully impassive next to a tall man with bright blue eyes and deep red hair that had his hand on her waist. Natasha didn't have a brother and that led Clint to one possible explanation.

"Is that Alexei?" He asked, grinding his teeth, studying the man in the image.

For Natasha Romanoff widow wasn't just her code name. Her husband, Alexei Shostakov, was a pilot that had died in an accident many years ago, long before Natasha had joined SHIELD. They'd been married off to each other young in a marriage arranged by the KGB. Natasha didn't talk about it a lot.

"He looks… Russian." Clint frowned.

Natasha shot him a look, then continued, "I kept thinking, when Alexei died, that I wouldn't be far behind him. Now, I'm beginning to think about the future. Think about all the things I've never had to contemplate before; life after all of this."

"Life after this?" Clint prompted, his brow furrowed.

"There's a limit on what age I can continue to be what I am, Clint. What else am I good for? What other purpose do I have?" Natasha breathed out; glancing across to the gun perched on the edge of her dresser.

Clint's eyes drifted from her eyes, trailing down to her lips. He closed the space between them as Natasha turned her head to face him. Clint pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Living… Breathing." he murmured, softly kissing her jaw and brow in turn before pulling away.

Natasha's eyes stayed closed for a few seconds after his warm lips left her skin, instinctively leaning after him a bit. "Thank you."

"Life changes, you'll adapt, and you'll always be needed, Tasha." Clint captured her hand in his and brushed his lips along her knuckles, "There are more things hands can do than punch."

"I know," she whispered, resting her palms on either side of his neck, she placed her lips on his and his strong arms slid around her waist. A buzz spread down Clint's spine as he tugged her closer, up on his knees, with his chest pressed against hers and one hand in her red hair.

"Like this?" Natasha sighed, running one hand down his back while the other gripped his hair.

"Like that." Clint confirmed, resisting the urge to grin as he kissed her more passionately. "You don't just have to survive, Tasha. You can live." He almost growled, gripping her thighs with his arms and lifting her up to sit her on her bed.

He seated himself beside her. "I have something for you." He told her.

This was the moment of truth. Clint drew a jewellery box about the length and breadth of his splayed hand from his pocket. It was velvet and blood red in colour. Natasha ran her fingers across the soft fabric, captivated as she took it from him, opening the box with a click. The contents reflected the light of the stars.

"Sterling Silver, very unassuming, and that's the strongest chain they have." Clint murmured his lips close to her ear.

Sentimental and practical, Natasha smiled, that was Clint in a nutshell. She secured her hair with one hand and hand the box back to him, indicating for him to place the necklace around her throat. Natasha lifted her hair out the way.

Clint delicately took the present from its box and placed the necklace around her neck as nimbly as he would handle a real arrow. The trust involved for an assassin such as Natasha to allow another to put their hands around her neck so readily was colossal. Natalia Romanova had been raised to always be suspicious, to always be alert, never to trust, and never to love. She knew she had already long failed as placed two fingers where the tiny arrow lay at her throat.

Clint slipped an arm around her, pulling her into him, his mouth planting more little kisses on her neck and jaw, his hand spread across her lower abdomen.

"Marking your territory, Hawk?" She asked good-naturedly, with a slight edge to her tone.

"You don't belong to anyone now, Tasha." Clint said with his face relaxed but eyes bright and playful. Placing a finger under her chin his lips met hers once again; he leant over her, manipulating her gently till she was laid back against the mattress with his hands either side of her head and his thigh in-between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The beat of her heart pounded in her ears.

Natasha's beeper went off, flashing insistently. She groaned, pulling away from Clint to check it. Fury needed her. "Sorry. Fury." Natasha explained shortly to Clint who was still pressing velvet kisses behind her ear. Reluctantly clambering off the bed, she turned to give her partner one last ardent, promising kiss. Natasha looked back at a disappointed Clint perched on her bed as she left the room. As she absent-mindedly fiddled with her necklace, suddenly retirement wasn't looking so bad after all.


End file.
